


Gridiron I

by orphan_account



Series: Brothers [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Brothers, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He gazes at a crow perched on a rather large shrub a little ways away, thinks about how he used to wish he could be a bird when he was little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gridiron I

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is going to be split into two parts because the two storylines I’m writing are 1) somewhat consecutive, and 2) both dealing with football. I’m sorry that this took awhile to get finished but, like Like Toothpaste, it ended up being longer than I anticipated because emotional curveballs and plot twists kept throwing themselves at me.

He’s taking a day off of work for this. That’s a little crazy and out-of-character, but something tells him the break will be worth it. What that something is is totally unknown to him (it could be his conscience, or an angel, or dementia), but it’s there, whispering in his ear.

Loki ends up leaving the house earlier than he probably should out of boredom only. He’s used to being out and working at this time, so sitting around his house and distractedly trying to finish his psychology homework (which is pretty easy today) is markedly tedious and uninteresting compared to what he _could_ be doing. So, he grabs his textbook and his behavioral packet and drives out to the football field.

Loki knows he’s injecting himself into a handful of things he really, _seriously_ doesn’t like: football, Steve Rogers, and the pompous, rude Elysian Lions. He also knows he’s probably making a stupid decision by taking unnecessary lengths to put himself in this unsavory situation. He _also_ knows that he really doesn’t give a damn, considering the fact that the team will be consumed with their practice and he will be somewhat absorbed in his homework until the coach blows the final whistle. Besides, what’s life without variety? ( _Blissful_.)

Loki situates himself at the very top of the bleachers, the one spot where people are least likely to notice or pester him. The weather is just a tad too warm, but the occasional breeze that blows makes up for the heat (thank _God_ ). Loki takes a lengthy moment to watch the practice that’s taking place, but it’s a little hard for him to get into considering that his mind literally refuses to understand football. No, really. No matter how many times Thor or Tony has tried to explain the sport to him, it isn’t possible for him to wrap his head around it. That’s just how it is.

So, because watching football is tantamount to having an aneurysm or falling asleep from the monotony, Loki tears his attention away from the mock-game and focuses on his homework. The first page in the packet covers vocabulary; extremely simple.

Loki’s defining _cognitive behavior_ in his own words when he hears the tell-tale clang of footsteps approaching him. He decides not to look up to express his lack of desire for socialization, assuming that whoever wants to bother him is just another person he can do without. But, it turns out that the stranger really _isn’t_ a stranger, and is actually someone Loki really can’t _not_ have in his life at this point.

“Hey, busy-bee,” is what makes Loki’s head snap up, what makes him smile, amused, when he sees and hears his intruder. Cue some pretentious French-speaking (Loki likes to do that, especially to people who aren’t as fluent as him).

“Bonjour, mon chérie,” Loki replies, watching Tony climb over a few more bleachers with nimble steps. He idly twirls his pen between his thumb and forefinger.

Truthfully, Loki didn’t expect to see Tony here. Not to say that he’s displeased with the man’s appearance, but he is surprised by it (in a slightly good way).

“I’m guessing, _hello, my love_?” Tony translates as he moves to stand in front of Loki, panting lightly from the effort of climbing what’s practically Mount Olympus to reach him. He crosses his arms over his chest, grinning in what looks like airy satisfaction.

“ _Good day_. Bonjour means _good day_ ,” Loki modifies, smirking because he knows that he likes to be critical, and that Tony thinks it’s the best (sometimes worst) thing in the world when he acts that way.

“My bad, my bad,” Tony laughs, shaking his head. He wipes his hand over his face to get rid of the pesky film of sweat there.

“Did you come here for me or for Steve?” Loki asks, and _yes_ , it’s a bitchy question. It really is. But it’s also completely relevant when you have the three of them (Loki, Tony, and Steve) all in the same situation, and in such close proximity and awareness of each other. See what I mean?

Tony scowls, though (Loki can get on his bad side just as well as he can on his very best), and instead of answering, he says, “Loki, I haven’t seen you in almost a week. Can I at least get a hug?”

Okay, yeah. That makes sense. To be honest, Loki wasn’t thinking about how his week-long, nearly total withdrawal from all socialization with others (including Tony) would affect his friend, even though he _should have_. He should have known that Tony would take offense to it, that Tony would get worried and nervous and maybe just a little bitter.

“I’m sorry,” Loki quickly apologizes, dropping his packet and textbook onto the bleachers next to him and rising to his feet. He moves into Tony’s arms as soon as the man opens them, hugging his friend as tightly as he can (because, believe it or not, Loki mourns his lack of substantial contact with people, especially Tony).

“I missed you, man,” Tony sighs, and his voice is heavy like a raincloud as he hugs Loki back. When Loki pulls away to look at him, the man’s expression looks almost pained at the distance between them, however little of it there is, and he scratches his head and asks, “Where’d you go?”

Damn. Way to make Loki feel like shit.

“Jupiter,” Loki answers only half-sarcastically, smiling a bit when the jibe brings a similar expression to Tony’s face. That means he isn’t _totally_ in the doghouse.

“Care to tell me about that?” Tony urges as Loki returns to sitting on the bleachers. Loki relocates his homework back to his lap so Tony can join him (even though there’s like twenty-plus feet of bench on his other side).

“Where do I start?” Loki asks, even though Tony can’t possibly tell him when he doesn’t know what’s been going on. He can be some kind of vain and difficult sometimes, can’t he?

But, oh! Tony does have an answer (and it’s one that Loki really hates himself for).

“How about after you hung up on me on Saturday?” Tony replies drily, and keep in mind that today is _Thursday_ (which means it’s been five days since Loki has actually talked to Tony, six since he’s done it while not being angry/drunk/hungover/etc.) and that Tony seldom uses that tone when talking to Loki. Also remember that Thor and Steve think they’re going out, which sort of-kind of makes Loki consider going out with Tony, and _oh God_ , it’s like balance refuses to find itself in Loki’s life. As soon as some sort of normalcy and civility is in the Thor department, everything has to go screwy with Tony. _Great_.

Loki forces himself not to show that he’s all-out panicking on the inside (because if Tony knows he is, he’ll start freaking out, too) and almost begs, “Will you promise not to go off on me and just _listen_ for a few minutes? I know you probably hate me right now.”

Tony makes a face, shakes his head for a moment and says, “Hate? Never. But I’m not perfectly happy with you, if you know what I mean.”

Loki doesn’t even try to defend himself. He frowns and exhales through his nose, rejoins with, “I don’t blame you.”

He says it because it’s true, and because _yeah_ , he feels really fucking bad about himself (about everything, _goddammit_ , because nothing stays good for long). But, because Tony is horribly complicated and altruistic (only when it comes to him or Steve or Pepper), he gets this slightly sympathetic look on his face and says, “Don’t say that.”

 _Jesus Christ_. Loki chooses to ignore the compassion, watch the football field, and just start talking.

“After I hung up on you, what basically happened was Thor and I got into this really bad argument,” Loki says, watching as his brother tackles _the **fuck**_ out of Logan Howlett, “He asked me why I spit in Steve’s face,” Loki feels a little bit like he’s walking on thin ice when he says this, because he knows Tony might still be sore about that, “… and it turned into something about Fandral, I guess. Uhm… he told me that Steve thinks we’re dating,” _that_ was risky, “… and then he asked what he was doing to make me so angry all the time…”

Tony interjects and laughs, “He had to _ask_ you?” Some of his good humor is back, _awesome_. Loki still doesn’t look at him, though.

“Well, he’s _Thor_ ,” Loki replies, and is he actually defending his brother? Shit, what’s the world coming to?

“True,” Tony says, and Loki takes it as an invitation to keep going. It’s almost like he’s developed this awesome storytelling skill that he loves to use every time he sees his friend.

“So I told him what’s been bothering me,” Loki goes on, and his words are kind of funny to him, because it isn’t _bothering him_ so much as _driving him insane_. “And then the phone rang, and it was Mother, and she wanted to talk to Thor.”

Tony makes a low noise, asks, “Did she bust his ass?”

Loki chuckles quietly at the question and replies, “I assume she did, but I don’t know for sure because I walked out of the room. But, uhm… when Thor and I were arguing, he told me that he didn’t actually want to hurt my feelings, and he sort-of apologized. Or something. The phone rang when he started to say sorry.”

Tony doesn’t say anything in response, and Loki’s secretly very pleased with that; he doesn’t want to hear something like _Well, that’s good_ or _I’m happy for you_ , because he gets enough of that from Frigga.

“After he got off the phone, he went into his room,” Loki continues, absently rubbing his thumb against the shaft of his pen, “I went to go check on him, and we…” he pauses, sighs quietly and tries to figure out just _how_ to say what they did, because describing it in simple, plain terms seems inadequate. His eyes are glued to Thor as he deliberates; the man is talking animatedly with Steve as the two of them walk the length of the field.

Just as Tony starts to prompt him into speech, Loki finally says, “We… sat together. And that sounds weird and stupid, but I can’t really think of any other way to say it. We just _sat together_ , not talking, for God knows how long.”

Tony is silent for a moment before he notes, “That sounds like a miracle.”

And it’s true; it really _does_ sound phenomenal. It’s nearly impossible for Loki and Thor to forgo speech when they’re in the same room, especially if they’re alone. One of them automatically feels the need to talk when around the other. That’s the way it’s been since they were children.

Loki wants to lean back _really_ badly, but if he does, he’ll go plummeting off the edge of the bleacher he’s on to a painful and violent death (or possibly just a severely broken body). To remedy his problem, he scoots off of his seat and sits on the pseudo-floor beneath him, resting his back against the bench on which he was just sitting.

“After that, I guess I didn’t feel like talking to anybody, really,” Loki explains, effectively connecting the argument with Thor to his social departure. He thinks it adds up, even though a lot of really it doesn’t to him.

“So that’s why you dropped off the face of the planet?” Tony queries, and there’s just a hint of uneasiness in the question, like he’s doubting Loki’s claim. Oh, no.

Loki looks up at Tony, frowns a bit as he says, “ _Yes_ , Tony. Did you think it was _you_?” He asks because he knows Tony has a tendency to think like that sometimes, because he can hear the self-deprecation and accusation in the man’s voice.

Tony further proves Loki’s knowledge when he shoots him a cynical look, answers, “Well, no shit. You hung up on me, disappeared for _a week_ , and as soon as I see you again, you’re throwing Steve at me. Of course that’s what I thought.”

Loki is officially the worst friend of all time. And Tony loves him nonetheless. Wow, universe, you make a whole lot of sense, you know that?

“Tony, no,” Loki protests, sliding his homework out of his lap again and moving to sit backwards on the bleacher below Tony’s. He reaches for Tony’s hands, adding once he has them in his own, “If I were upset with you, I’d tell you. And why would I be?”

Tony watches him with a carefully placid expression, replies, “I was drunk the last time you saw me, I fussed at you about Steve, and I’m generally a huge asshole?”

God, they’re both horrible.

“ _Stop it_ ,” Loki snaps a little harsher than he means to (that’s probably not helping his whole _I’m not mad at you_ argument), squeezing Tony’s fingers in that awesomely-reassuring way he has, “It’s not you.”

And, okay. _That’s_ just a little bit of a lie. Loki was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t upset with Tony, but to say the man had nothing to do with him becoming a semi-hermit isn’t totally honest. Because Tony _is_ a part of it, because Loki has been wasting a chunk of his alone time pondering a future where the two of them aren’t _just friends_ , because Loki’s afraid that if he isn’t prepared to see Tony and he does, he’ll make a massively foolish, impulsive decision. He’s pretty ecstatic that he hasn’t fucked up this encounter too badly, even though, knowing him, he probably will soon.

Tony is observing him so skeptically, though. Oh, God.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Loki practically pleads, and the appeal sounds irritated as well as desperate. Shit, shit, shit, this is getting _bad_.

“Stop hiding,” is Tony’s response. It’s probably the most wonderful, most _terrible_ thing he could say right about now.

So, Loki convinces himself he’s doing this to get Tony to _shut his stupid mouth_. Yep, this is just him acting like the manipulative prick he is to get his way, to make things easy and simple and clean.

Except it’s _not_ , and Loki’s making things messy and complex and dirty (for him) when he moves up and kisses Tony. There’s nothing superficially different about the gesture, nothing that sets it apart from the similarly solid, airtight kisses they’ve shared in the past. The one alteration is something only Loki notices:

He _likes_ it, wants it even. And this is too weird, too _off_ , because any other time and he’d be doing Tony a favor by kissing him. Now, he’s indulging himself, and Loki _never_ uses Tony in _this_ way, not until now. Besides that, what the fuck does it say when Tony asks him to stop hiding and he responds with a _kiss_? Loki hopes Tony doesn’t detect the sudden streak of desire in him as he pulls away to sit back on his bleacher.

Suddenly, life goes back to sucking for Loki. _Why_ does it suck?

Because now Loki has to pretend he’s not seriously thinking about screwing Tony. _Why_ does he have to pretend?

Because he’s afraid as soon as it happens, just once, he’ll be that bitch who wants to _stay friends_. _Why_ is he afraid?

Because he doesn’t even know how he feels right now. Because it’s like every time he’s with Tony, they’re taking two steps into _dating_ territory, and if he turns out to be the _stay friends-bitch_ , they’ll be taking about a hundred steps out of actual _friendship_. Because of Steve. Because of Fandral. Because of Thor.

“Loki?” pulls him out of his reverie. He meets Tony’s eyes and it hits him like an epiphany (or a semi, same difference) that he really doesn’t have to be cagey about this.

“I think I want to go out with you,” Loki blurts, and he swears the words _hurt_ coming out of his mouth, like they’re dredging knives into his throat and tongue and lips as they escape. Every time he says something with the potential to offend Tony (believe me, this _does_ have that potential), he feels like _this_.

Tony’s eyes widen a bit, and he makes this weird, sort of-relieved, sort of-disbelieving noise. He maneuvers his hands so that he’s holding Loki’s instead of the other way around (he does that a lot, actually) and says, so perfectly _right_ it could be scripted, “But?”

There are always _buts_.

The only thing Loki can think to say without rambling or making no sense is, “But I’m scared.” His voice is a whisper even though nobody can hear their conversation, and he feels a little bit like there’s a stone in his heart. That’s the worst sensation, and you know why?

Because it’s called _dread_ , and Loki thinks it’s a pretty bad sign if he’s feeling want and terror at the same time in relation to Tony.

Tony frowns, impossibly _disappointed_ , shakes his head and replies just as quietly, “Don’t be scared. Please, don’t be scared.”

Loki closes his eyes because can’t _stand_ to see Tony so suddenly despondent. He lets his hands go limp, breathes deeply in an attempt to quell the anxiety inside him. It doesn’t work (predictably).

“Loki…” Tony sighs, letting go of one of his hands. Loki blindly reaches for the lost appendage until he feels it at the back of his head, and he settles for grasping at Tony’s shirt as the man kisses his forehead. This is too much, like an earthquake or a hurricane blown straight through his state of mind. Things can’t be _this_ depressing between them, they just _can’t_.

“Don’t change anything,” Loki says, opening his eyes and pushing against Tony’s chest. He watches the awful splay of hope, confusion, and defeat on his friend’s face as he goes on with, “Don’t do anything other than what you normally would. Just give me some time.”

It sounds horrible and sappy and too much like a carefully disguised rejection to Loki’s ears. And that’s sad, because if it _was_ a rejection, he’d either be denying himself or making Tony crazy. Which is exactly what he’s doing. Oh Lord.

But Tony replies, “Okay,” and that’s great, because it _is_ okay if Tony says it is. Until the moment Loki actually makes his decision or Tony blows up from impatience, it’s _okay_.

Stupidly trying his luck, Loki inquires, “You’re not going to run away?”

Tony smiles ( _smiles_ , thank God) and cheekily retorts, “Why would I when I know what you’re going to say?”

This is one of those moments when Loki knows why he loves Tony so much. He grins, says, “Kiss me?”

Tony’s smile turns into a smirk (there’s a difference) as he asks, “Still not changing anything?”

Loki shakes his head, impish, laughs when Tony bends over to press a loud, messy kiss to his lips. He’s got this mantra of _Itsokayitsokayitsokayitsokay_ playing in his head, reminding him not to start flipping out about this until he gets home tonight (because Lord knows he will as soon as he’s alone).

So Loki and Tony kill some time and hang out for about ten minutes. The sun slowly lowers itself in the sky (it makes Loki think of a wilting flower crumbling to the ground) as football practice winds down to a close. Tony is telling him about how he needs to go to the homecoming game tomorrow (uhm, _no_ ) when Loki hears footsteps clanking on the bleachers again. He looks over to see a yin yang-sort of sight (I say _yin yang_ because it stirs up both positive and negative feelings inside Loki): Thor, with Steve trampling behind him. Great.

“Loki! Hi!” Thor calls to him, and it’s just a little bit hysterical how his expression goes from excited and eager because of Loki to just short of shell-shocked and aggressive once he notices Tony. Loki doesn’t know whether it’s Tony himself (it shouldn’t be, because, like he said, Thor doesn’t even know Tony) or the fact that they’re sitting so close beside each other, so obviously comfortable and in no need of anything else in the world because they’re _together_. Okay, that was really dramatic.

Loki doesn’t stop himself from smirking, opting to ignore Steve’s presence for now (it’s like every time this man shows up, Loki’s aggravation level skyrockets) and reply, “Hello, Thor.”

Thor and Steve eventually decide to stop about five bleachers from the top (And can you blame them? They’ve been practicing for what, an hour or so? Of course they don’t want to have to climb a whole motherfucking mountain.), panting like dogs. They both just stop and stare at Loki and Tony for an almost imperceptibly awkward moment, like they’re a pair of exotic animals mating at the zoo, before Thor speaks again.

“You remember Steve, right?” he asks, and Loki appreciates the sarcasm and intent to smooth things over in his brother’s tone. Steve waves a pleasant little wave; Loki can’t tell whether the gesture is ostentatious or not.

“Of course I do,” Loki retorts, offering an innocuous smile and addressing Steve with, “How are you?”

If you think about it, this is really uncomfortable, because before the party and what took place there happened, Loki and Steve weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t enemies nor were they strangers. They smiled at and said hello to each other and had completely amiable, entirely customary conversations. Steve, of course, was much keener than Loki to seek out socialization simply because he didn’t have a reason to dislike him, unlike Loki, who had a handful of those. The majority of the information the two of them knew about each other didn’t come from their own mouths, but from Tony’s (or Thor’s, but mostly Tony’s). There was never any excuse to rock the boat that was their relationship until the party.

Now, Steve unfortunately knows or can accurately predict how very unpleasant Loki’s feelings for him really are, most likely thinks Tony is crazy for favoring him so much, and has full reign to walk all over Loki like a bug on the sidewalk. And Loki is _still_ being just as insolent and self-important as he usually is. Yep.

Steve stays oily, though (ha), and answers Loki’s question, “Awesome. And you?” Loki is a little disappointed with Steve’s pleasantry.

He’s not a confrontational person. He really _isn’t_. But that Steve can maintain his perfectly friendly front even after he’s been spit in the face is pretty fucking infuriating.

“Wonderful,” Loki lies, well aware of the way Thor and Tony are watching them like hawks. It’s hilarious to think that both of them basically want to see Loki and Steve hug it out and call it a draw. Like that’s going to happen, if Loki has anything to do with it.

But because the universe absolutely _loves_ to make sense ( _no_ ), Steve says, a little abruptly, “Sorry for what happened at the party. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Uhm, okay. Okay. What’s going on?

Steve Rogers is _apologizing_ for Loki spitting in his face? Well, not exactly _that_ , but you get the picture. He’s saying sorry for something that nine out of ten people would say was Loki’s error (seeing as he’s the one who freaked out so badly). No, no, no. This is wrong. Steve Rogers _cannot_ be the good guy here, _oh my God_.

And _because_ he can’t be the good guy, Loki is going to play Humble Harry and frown, shake his head, and insist, “No, no. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

It’s a dick move of epic proportions, but it boosts his image in the eyes of Steve, Tony, _and_ Thor. Actually, Tony can probably see through some of the act, but it would be extraordinarily hard for him to get angry with Loki for making Steve like him again. Gosh, this is complicated.

Steve smiles ( _ugghhhhh_ ), makes a trivial gesture with his hands and says, “It’s no biggie.” He’s still mastering the superhero role in this situation, _goddammit_. Loki’s going to remember this.

Before things can get incredibly awkward, Thor asks, “How long have you been waiting, brother?” The question is like a heaven-sent invitation to get out of there.

Loki pretends to think for a few seconds (just keep lying, just keep lying, just keep _lying_ ) before replying with, “Fifteen or twenty minutes.” He says it like it’s no big deal, even though he knows that Thor knows he’d be totally bothered by something like that.

Thor gets this taken aback expression on his face. He crosses his arms, clearly discomfited, quickly says, “Oh, I’m sorry, man.”

Loki shakes his head flippantly, already reaching for his homework (that he’s barely touched, and can you tell how badly he wants to leave now?), dismisses Thor’s apology with, “It’s okay. I had Tony.”

It seems like the statement sets everybody _but_ its speaker on edge in entirely different ways, because Tony is suddenly and obviously ecstatic, and Thor and Steve look like they’re two thirteen year-old girls witnessing some grand romance that melts their tender little hearts. It’s quite hysterical, actually.

Loki stands, turns to Tony (who looks like he could take on the world right about now), and gives him this hint of a smile that’s probably the equivalent of wiggling a feather in a cat’s face. He spreads his arms, miraculously managing to keep his textbook balanced, and says with a touch of genuine sadness, “Bye, Tony.”

Tony doesn’t waste any time in getting to his feet and hugging Loki _tightly_ (like, _ouch I can’t breathe_ tight), returning the goodbye with just as much if not more remorse. And _of course_ Thor and Steve are pretty much convinced that they’re dating now, because they’re standing there, practically weeping over their impending separation and embracing each other in a way that isn’t exactly _friendly_. That doesn’t mean Loki’s not scared anymore (that doesn’t just _go away_ ), but the contact feels good in a different way than it used to.

Thor is on the verge of bursting with questions when he and Loki walk back to the car.

 

~*~

 

“Not dating. Yeah, _right_ ,” Thor scoffs as Loki keys the engine on. He’s shoving his duffel bag in the backseat and generally being big and making noise.

Loki laughs at the grumble and starts to back out of his parking space, glancing at Thor for a moment as he does and replying, “We’re _not_.”

“I believe you,” is Thor’s heavily sarcastic retort. He pulls his blond, sweat-frizzed hair into a ponytail and fixes Loki with these laser-like eyes that are brimming with accusation and _liar, liar, pants on fire_.

“I’m glad you do,” Loki throws back, and really, he’s feeling so oddly smug and blithe about this whole thing. Maybe it’s Thor’s disgruntlement that’s amusing him way too much. Maybe it’s the unexpectedly successful encounter he had with Tony. Maybe it’s the brand new Temper Trap CD ( _fuck yes_ ) streaming from the speakers.Maybe it’s the weather. Whatever _it_ is, it’s like weed or something, because it makes Loki feel _great_.

Thor cranks his seat back like a million feet, reclining like you would on the sofa of God. He sighs, “Loki, you don’t have to act so weird about it. It’s okay if you’re going out with someone.”

Alright, Thor. You’re really helping Loki’s predicament (not).

“ _You’re_ the one who’s acting weird about this,” Loki points out, trying not to let himself get too aggravated with Thor’s thorough abuse of his seat, “And why do you want me to date so badly? It’s not important.”

Thor makes this utterly surprised, dissenting noise and folds his arms behind his head, says, “Of course it’s important. You’d be happy.”

Okay, that was just _amazing_. Loki’s going to savor that line forever and ever, _especially_ at times when he thinks he’s going to kill Thor out of resentment. But, being as careful and guarded as he is with ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the general population (the point-one percent being Tony and Frigga), he won’t show just how thrilled he is with Thor’s statement. Instead, he asks, “Why do you say that?”

“Say what?” Thor goes. _Oh my God._

“That I’d be happy,” Loki clarifies huffily, making a somewhat sharp turn because of the sudden spark of aggravation that lands inside him. He really does want to know why Thor would say such a thing, even though the reason is probably stupid as fuck.

“You’d get laid,” Thor replies, and while the answer _is_ pretty fucking dumb, it also makes _a lot_ of sense. Loki actually agrees with him; sex _would_ be a plus and is psychologically proven to improve your general mood. Why is he talking with _Thor_ about this, though?

“Uhm, _okay_ ,” Loki says as he approaches a stoplight. There’s no one on the road, so he’s tempted to just blow through the red light and keep on going. But he doesn’t.

“But it’s true!” Thor argues, waving his hands around in the air to emphasize his point, and really, he’s _way_ too excited to be having a sex talk with Loki. Really. Especially since the last hundred times he’s tried to broach the subject (they were teenagers), Loki would run out of the room, screaming with his hands over his ears. Thor turns to look at him, asks, “Plus, what’s a relationship without sex?”

“Potentially extraordinarily meaningful,” Loki wryly retorts, but his heart really isn’t in the answer as much as it seems to be. He’s too busy thinking about what it would be like to have sex with Tony, which is weird considering he’s driving a car and Thor is inches away from him. Loki has a very odd life.

Thor makes this irritated/reluctantly agreeing noise and says, “Alright, but what if the sex is bad?”

Again, _why are they talking about this?_ Especially when Thor is in one of the most unstable sexual relationships Loki’s ever had the pleasure of witnessing. His thing with Sif is worse than that summer when Thor and Loki decided to make their parents’ room their own. Frigga and Odin walked around each other like wolves for nearly the entirety of those two months until the former of them sent her sons off to her sister’s house for a week. Loki and Thor came back to find two extremely mysterious, extremely happy people inhabiting their home.

“Then it’s for shit,” Loki immediately answers. He knows some individuals would say otherwise, but most people (including him) consider good sex a given. Okay, _what_?

“That’s what I’m saying,” Thor indicates. Wait.

“No it’s not,” Loki protests. It sounds really pretentious and haughty, the way he says that, but either he’s totally confused by sex talk and sex thoughts or Thor has a hard time following his own train of thought. It’s probably both.

“How can you tell me what I’m saying?” Thor asks, challenging, as the light turns green and Loki puts his foot on the gas.

“Like this: at first, you were saying I need to get laid to be happy, and now you’re talking about how sex needs to be good in a rela–” Loki is speed-talking through this whole explanation before he just cuts himself off with, “ _Why are we having this conversation?_ ”

“Good question,” Thor replies. Wow, that helped.

Loki sighs heavily and takes one hand off of the wheel to run through his hair, says, “Look, don’t worry about me dating Tony. It’ll happen or it won’t. And I don’t know why you want me to do it so badly when every time you see Tony, you look like you’re going to have a stroke.”

There’s a lengthy pause after Loki says that, broken only when Thor mumbles, “I didn’t say I _wanted_ you to go out with him.”

This sounds like a semi-argument the two of them had when they were sixteen and seventeen. It’s just as embarrassing, too.

“Why does it _matter_?” Loki practically shrieks, because _honestly_ , _why does it_? It really shouldn’t, and Loki seriously thought that there was some sort of unspoken mutual agreement between them that he and Thor’s sex lives were only their own business. Apparently not.

“It doesn’t,” Thor assures him a little too fast, and he’s glancing out the window in the way he does when he doesn’t want to talk about _subject x_ anymore. Because Loki isn’t too keen on continuing the conversation himself, he decides to drop it. It’s still going to bother him, though.

“Alright, then,” Loki huffs, blinking hard and exhaling sharply to get rid of his nerves. Those are annoying, and they always show up at the wrong time (every time).

So then there’s this uncomfortable silence between them because something that was kind of hilarious turned into a theoretical powder keg. They both overreacted, and that solely proves that if Thor and Loki have only one thing in common, it’s their sensitivity. Well, to be more accurate, Thor’s sensitive to Loki _alone_ , really (maybe Sif as well, but that whole issue is pretty foggy right now), and Loki’s more sensitive to Thor _than anything else_.

Loki is cradling his head in his hand, resting his elbow against the window and waiting at _another_ red light (jeeze, he hates those) when Thor suddenly asks, “Now, why do you always do that?”

Oh, shit. This smells like testosterone, and testosterone means an argument.

“Do what?” Loki snaps, but he really doesn’t want to know or care. He’s only focused on getting home and finishing his homework now.

“You build these walls around yourself every time someone tries to get to you,” Thor says, and Loki can feel his hard blue eyes trained on him, “It’s like as soon as I’m actually reaching you, you’re suddenly a thousand miles away, and I don’t know _what_ I did to make you go there.”

Loki thinks of his conversation with Fandral from yesterday. He remembers the man starting to point out the very same thing and wonders, only half-jokingly, if the world is conspiring to tear him down. Silent, he drives through the now green traffic light.

“Shit, Loki, won’t you _say_ something?” Thor barks, “Are you mad?”

He is, in a weird way. It would be more correct to say that he’s irritated.

“Are you embarrassed? What, Loki?” Thor goes on, his voice growing more insistent.

Embarrassed is the wrong word. Anxious would be better.

“Are you scared?” Thor asks. Ouch.

That’s pretty much absolutely right. That’s the reason why Loki first started doing this closing up and (almost) never letting people in thing. He’s _scared_ , always scared; scared that if he lets himself trust Thor, they’ll end up in an accident more fatal and/or detrimental than the last one Thor landed them in; scared that if he takes his medicine, he’ll be one of those emotionless, numbed creatures with the same disorder he has; scared that if he lets himself fall into a relationship with Tony (God knows he’s already fallen in love; wait, did I just say that?), he’ll fuck it up to an irreparable extent; scared that if he _doesn’t_ take a chance with Tony, he’ll start losing millions upon millions of awesome/cool/interesting/amazing points to Steve; scared that if he actually decides to see Steve in the way everyone else does, he’ll be a zombie-like minion who lives under the law of Rogers; scared that if he goes home, like _home_ home, he’ll be little Loki again, beloved of his mother and forgotten by his father, the _dark_ son instead of the _golden_ son like Thor, tricky instead of grand, minor instead of important; scared that if people start to see the _wonderful_ things about him, his darker parts will only be that much more apparent because there are _so many_ of them; scared to love himself, because no one that counts does (Thor, Odin, Steve…).

“Loki, please,” Thor is practically begging, and he’s leaning out of his seat and towards Loki in a way that’s just a little bit foolish considering what it’s _doing_ to the man; that is, screwing with his focus and making his eyes water. Shit.

Loki makes a quick decision and turns sharply off of the road. He pulls into one of those weird little lots that seem to have no use for anything other than turning completely around. The sky is getting dark and home seems so far away.

Loki doesn’t bother to turn the car off. He just lets one hand slide off of the wheel, balling the other into a fist against his cheek. Moisture ( _damn it_ , that moisture) pools in his eyes until it overflows, drips down onto his face. He sniffs wetly, and the only noise in the Elantra is the oddly and coincidentally fitting music playing, melancholy and slippery. Thor is watching him.

“Why do you cry like that?” Thor asks him, and the question sounds incredibly stupid to Loki.

“ _How_ do I cry?” Loki whispers, blinking like his eyelids weigh a ton each. He gazes at a crow perched on a rather large shrub a little ways away, thinks about how he used to wish he could be a bird when he was little. His preferred choice was a magpie, honestly, but crows can tickle his fancy, too.

“Like you’re a kid,” Thor elaborates, and his voice is unmistakably angry, but with none of the hardness or volume that usually accompanies that such emotion, “Anything sets you off, and I don’t get why. Is it me?”

Yes, and no. Loki doesn’t know how to say that without telling Thor what only Frigga, Tony, and himself are aware of. Not even _Odin_ knows what makes Loki volatile in the way he only was when he was a child.

That doesn’t mean Loki _wants_ to tell, though.

“Kind of,” Loki replies, sucking in a harsh breath as he does. His eyes are stinging now, but he’s far too used to the burn for it to really bother him. Isn’t that sad?

“That makes _so_ much sense,” Thor sighs sarcastically, his pissiness far more obvious in his tone. He’s starting to not care about being cautious and tiptoeing around his feelings; Loki can tell. So he’s going to attempt to ease into what Thor’s trying to dig up.

“Do you remember what I was like, before?” Loki asks, and he tries hard not to look at Thor, afraid that if he does he’ll only break down and sink further away from the man. Oh, yeah, because he’s _scared scared scared_.

Thor takes a moment to think about the question and what it implies before he ventures, unsure, “Before the accident?”

This is like taking a scalpel to both of their ribs, because talking about _the accident_ is so touchy and difficult and dangerous, and how about more similes? It’s like letting a wound heal almost completely only to rip the scab off, like dangling a match over gasoline, like teasing a wild animal.

Loki nods a bit in response to Thor’s query. He wipes absently at his face, not actually caring for his appearance. The action is more habitual than conscious.

“Well, yeah,” Thor answers like it should be obvious, and Loki speaks like a punctuation mark after his statement.

“Did I cry like this then?” he asks. The subtle punch in the way he says it seems to suck all the air out of the car like a vacuum, and Loki _knows_ Thor feels it, knows that Thor knows what he means by the question. Because it really isn’t a question so much as it is a highlighter of the footnote at the bottom of the page that people like Thor don’t bother to read because it’s trivial, negligible, and not as large as the rest of the text.

When Thor finally speaks, his voice is an octave higher and a lot quieter than it usually is. He’s nearly whispering, “Loki… _I_ did that?”

Loki looks at Thor, then, because he’s aware it has more impact than him just saying _Yeah_ or _Duh_. It’s also easier than actually articulating the truth, even though he’s going to have to do that eventually – _eventually_ meaning in a few minutes, maybe seconds. Thor is watching him with this terribly stunned, terribly pained expression on his face, like he can’t, can’t, _can’t_ believe this is for real.

“What?” he blurts, smiling in a non-happy way. You know that moment when you can’t help what your face is doing because you’re so overwhelmed emotionally and mentally, so you end up making this expression that’s an amalgamation of two completely different emotions and really doesn’t make any sense? That’s what Thor’s doing right about now.

Loki makes a small noise that could be something like agreement, but he thinks he’s kind of doing what he used to when they were kids and Thor would freak out. He’d turn into this mother cat or something, sit really close to Thor, and make this soothing sort of humming/purring sound in the back of his throat. It was a weird thing to do, but it would either make Thor laugh, calm him down, or both. But anyways, Loki says, “It’s bipolar disorder.”

Thor shakes his head a little bit, his face contorting into this horrified frown, and gasps, “I don’t understand.” And Loki knew he wouldn’t.

“My… my doctor says it was always there…” Loki explains, running his fingers through his hair again, and this is almost physically painful for him to say, “But it never ‘kicked-in’ until after the accident.”

And that’s a significant reason why Loki distrusts and resents Thor so much, besides the circumstances of the accident itself. He was broken up enough on the outside (and still has the scars to prove it). To discover that the stress of the incident was enough to ‘activate’ a disorder that could have stayed forever dormant had the accident never occurred was probably the single worst thing that has ever happened to Loki. _Especially_ because Thor wasn’t afflicted with it, too, even though bipolar disorder is supposed to run in families and Thor was just as likely to have it lying around in his head, waiting to happen. _Especially_ because when Loki had three metaphorical balloons in his hospital room, Thor had twelve, because when Thor was insisting he rest _just a week longer, mom_ , Loki was out of bed attending school from six-to-two and therapy, both physical and emotional, from three-to-seven. _Especially_ because the price Thor paid for the accident was minimal jail time and about a month of bed rest, when Loki has to deal with this ungodly disease for the rest of his life, the repercussions that come with it, a minor fear of automobiles, and trust issues nearly impossible to overcome, and the accident _wasn’t even his fault_.

This strangled noise comes from Thor’s throat before he’s looking down, murmuring, “I did that. I did that,” like he’s absolutely shocked at the magnitude of what Loki’s saying, like he hasn’t realized just _how bad_ the accident and its aftermath was until now, as if Loki blatantly hating him, ignoring him, and distrusting him so much hadn’t made it obvious.

“You did,” Loki says mutedly, and he’s fixing to turn away from Thor when the man speaks again, pulls his attention.

“How could I do that?” Thor asks in a louder tone, looking up at Loki once more. He’s not actually addressing his brother (he’s probably just talking to himself), but Loki feels like he needs to answer the rhetorical question.

“I just told you,” Loki replies, keying the car off and bringing his knees up to his chest. It’s his default vulnerable and/or comfortable position, one he assumes whenever he’s feeling small.

“Yeah, but…” Thor starts to say, narrowing his eyes and rerouting the conversation down a faster lane with, “Why didn’t you say anything? You’ve been dealing with this for over _three years?_ ”

Loki shrugs a bit and rests his cheek against his knees, says, “Yes. It hasn’t bothered you until now.”

“That’s because I _didn’t know_ until now,” Thor retorts, and while it sounds valid, it also sounds horrible.

“That’s because you _haven’t cared_ until now,” Loki bites back, a small sob hooking at the end of the exclamation.

“ _Don’t_ fucking say that!” Thor practically yells, moving almost indiscernibly into Loki’s space. His eyes get tight at the corners and his mouth hangs slightly open; an expression of disbelief, doubt, grief. The sky is a rich, deep blue now.

Loki sniffs again, wipes at his eyes and goes quiet. The gesture apparently has some effect on Thor, because his face and posture softens just a bit.

“Look,” Thor says, his voice much lower, “You have to tell me stuff like this, okay? Because I’m not as smart as you and I won’t always notice things like _bipolar disorder_ unless you let me know.”

That makes Loki a little upset, the way Thor said what he just did. It’s hard to be certain whether Thor means every single word he says or is just lost in his emotion and talking out of his ass, but either way, his unusual self-deprecation is tugging at Loki’s heartstrings.

“I’m _your brother_ ,” Thor emphasizes, and he sounds like he’s trying not to scream or cry (oh _God_ ), “Of course I care, I’ve always done that. When did you stop doing the same?”

Loki isn’t sure which of the two of them Thor is referring to; it’s most likely both brothers. And it’s a sad question to ask, because while he hasn’t _really_ stopped caring about Thor (just because he didn’t like him doesn’t mean he didn’t love him with all his heart), he convinced himself he did the same moment in which he ceased to care about himself.

“Too long ago,” Loki whispers, gasping and whimpering with tears.

Thor stares at him for a moment, completely rapt, before he says, “You have to promise me something.”

Loki doesn’t hesitate. He replies, “Okay,” without even considering how difficult it might be to uphold whatever oath Thor requests that he take. It just feels good to have a pact, you know?

“Promise me that you’ll _stop hiding_. Promise that if something goes wrong you’re gonna tell me,” Thor demands, “Because I can’t just sit around for years letting you slowly go crazy. I-I have to do something.”

That’s the way it’s always been. Whenever Loki has a broken _x_ or a damaged _y_ , Thor has to fix it, or at least play some part in making it better. It doesn’t matter what it is or how hard it would be to repair this whatever; Thor _needs_ to fix it. Loki kind of hates himself for thinking that that attribute changed in Thor (but it’s a little hard to believe that Thor is still Loki’s minuteman after the personality adjustment he underwent when high school and college started happening).

Loki fails to verbalize his agreement. He only manages to nod a couple of times before any kind of self-discipline he has goes flying out the window and he’s breaking down, sobbing loudly and crying freely. He’s been reining this in since he first decided to look at Thor, and it feels fucking _wonderful_ to let it out.

To be honest, Loki feels like if he was one of those people who refrained from tears at all costs, he’d be a lot more miserable than he is. It’s like that beautiful exhale after you’ve taken a deep breath to cry, more effective in stress-relief than any wordy rant or detailed explanation Loki could spew.

Thor eventually moves across the center console to pull Loki into this awkward, one-armed hug that’s probably the best he can manage in the limited space of the cockpit. Loki leans into Thor and just _cries_ , like a child. Like a child.

The crow flies away.

**Author's Note:**

> So, uhm. Yeah. That was awfully depressing. /headdesk
> 
> I promise that the story will start to take a positive turn after this. It will be gradual, but there won’t be as much crying and emotional torture, okay? Okay.
> 
> By the way, the coincidentally fitting song that starts to play in the car is Soldier On by The Temper Trap. I only reread the story in parts, meaning, after I finished a large chunk, I would go back and read over it. Sorry if this is absolutely horrible. Also, did you guys guess the unrequited pairing? Please tell me you have, because I’ve been hinting at it for awhile and won’t actually tell you what it is until a few more of these into the future.
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated, lovelies.
> 
> \- Exie.


End file.
